Chapter 9
Nine
River
I pull into my normal parking spot thinking about all the things I have to do today.
Or maybe it’s less have to do since my anxious (and let’s face it, rage) baking and cooking of the last week has filled Brooks and Briar’s fridge and freezer with plenty of food, and more want to do.
Yes, I’ll take care of the laundry and the cleaning, make sure everything’s restocked.
But cooking will probably be unnecessary.
Unfortunately.
Unless Briar wants to try out another recipe.
That has a smile spreading on my face as I grab my purse, the extra container of cookies (because I really cannot trust myself with more of them at my house), then pop my door and climb out.
Maybe Briar will want to learn how to make them.
Maybe Thorn will show up and want to eat some.
Maybe—
There’s a scuff and I jerk back into myself, remember myself.
“Focus,” I whisper, slamming the door, hitching my purse higher over my shoulder, and turning for the door to the lobby.
Another scuff has me looking over my shoulder.
Nothing.
Just a mostly empty parking lot with hardly any shadows.
Still, I keep my keys out, hold the fob that will let me into the building tightly in my hand.
Ridiculous.
I’m becoming paranoid.
Then again that’s my typical modus operandi.
Still, as I cross the last row of cars, move to the door, I glance over my shoulder again, checking the far side of the garage for anything out of the ordinary.
Unfortunately…
I should have checked in front of me.
As I turn back, a man steps out from behind one of the wide concrete pillars.
Stomach twisting, heart pounding, I ignore him and keep walking.
Don’t stare. Don’t panic. Don’t escalate.
“Hello,” he says, stepping into my path.
Fuck.
“Hi,” I bite out, my gaze sliding through his as I sidestep him and move to the door.
I hear the scuff again, know now that it’s the sound of his shoe on the ground. It’s followed by the soft whoosh of his clothes as he turns to follow me and then…I feel it.
“Don’t,” I hiss, jerking away from his outstretched hand and whipping around to glare at him. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”
“Whoa, there,” he says, lifting that hand, holding it up, palm out. “Easy there, baby girl.”
His words are warm, his smile wide.
But the ice in his eyes tells me enough.
Fuck.
I back away from him.
He follows.
I’m just five feet from the door.
Then four.
“Why’re you scared, doll?”
His voice is faintly accented. French maybe? But I file that away for later and keep inching closer to the door. Three feet. Two.
“I don’t mean you any harm.”
Liar.
“If that’s true,” I say, “then back up and leave me alone.”
His smile disappears. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
I hear the quiet rumble of an engine, and stomach twisting, my eyes flick to the side just in time to see a black sedan pulling to a stop behind him, the driver and its two passengers’ eyes coming to me.
Not the man.
To me.
Fuck.
I spin on my heel.
If I can get inside, the security team will help.
I slap my key fob against the wall, but before I can make contact with the sensor, my arm is grabbed and I’m yanked back.
“I need you to come with me,” he says.
“No,” I growl, fighting his hold but not getting anywhere. “Let. Me. Go.”
Spoiler alert: he doesn’t. He just starts dragging me to the car.
Then I realize I’m not doing the most obvious thing I can—using my voice.
“Help!” I scream. “Help me! He—”
The backhand to my face stoppers up my voice and I fall to my hands and knees, scraping them in the process, sending stinging pain up my palms, my legs, my arms, matching the throbbing in my cheek.
“Get up,” the man says.
“No, I—”
“Now.” He grips my arm, my hair, and yanks me roughly to me feet. “Walk,” he orders coldly, nudging me toward the car.
The back door opens.
Fear slices through my middle.
No, not fear.
Terror.
I fight him as he pushes me forward, reaching a hand into my purse, wrapping my fingers around my phone.
I pull it out—
And it’s immediately yanked from my hand.
“Uh, uh, uh,” he tsks. “We’re not doing that tonight.”
“Just take my purse and go,” I say, knowing it’s not that simple—that of course it can’t be. But also, some small part of me is still hoping it might be.
“Sorry, baby girl,” he says, giving me one more hard push toward the car. “No can do.”
“Please—”
His fingers tighten on my arm hard enough to leave bruises and I stifle my cry of pain.
Because the look in his eyes tells me that he’s precisely the type of man who would enjoy that.
“Get in the car,” he orders, dropping his hand onto the back of my neck and shoving my head down. He does it at the same time as he pushes me forward, bending my body like it’s a fucking puppet and he’s my master.
And I have no choice but to obey, to clamber into the back seat.
“Good girl,” he croons, climbing in after me and shutting the door. “Go,” he orders the driver before reaching over me and buckling my seat belt. “Safety first,” he says lightly.
“I—”
But I don’t get a chance to finish that, don’t get a chance to even form the rest of my thought.
There’s a crackle, a flash of light.
Pain slicing through my body.
And…the world goes black.